Under the Stars
by 90TheGeneral09
Summary: What if Cal and Rachel hadn't taken the limousine ride home?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

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><p><strong>AN: The basic, initial idea for this story- Cal and Rachel leaving the Prom like they do, and doing what they do- came from another user on , fanficqueen625, who sent me a PM one time. The PM contained a basic, sketched-out idea for a Zero Day fanfic, and I was ultimately inspired to try and make it into a story myself. This is the result.**

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><p>Cal had been bored out of his mind all night. April 29th, two days to go… and here he was, wasting time at the Prom. He'd heard about it as far back as elementary school, in the goddamn fifth grade. Like it was gonna be the pinnacle of your existence in high school, or something.<p>

_Yeah_, Cal thought with real bitterness. _What a great four years this turned out to be. 'Best years of your life', my ass._

The blond recalled with revulsion a song he'd heard on the radio once, then again and again at one of the part-time jobs he'd held. Some prick from Canada that sounded like a bad Springsteen impersonator- another guy Cal wasn't too crazy about, come to think of it- was yammering on and on about how fucking amazing high school had been.

_Well, maybe it was in 1969_, _buddy_, Cal remembered thinking again and again, unable to cover his ears or step outside nearly enough at work. But that was almost forty years ago.

And besides, what the fuck was so great about 1969, come to think of it? It probably hadn't been for all the Americans and Vietnamese dying in Vietnam then. But for some shitty little Canadian rock star, sure. High school probably _did_ kick ass in 1969.

Three years of drudgery-at-best, living-Hell-at-worst in middle school had given way to four more of the same here in high school. Cal was tired of this, putting up with a system run by dim-witted hypocrites as if it was his duty to just suck it up and be a good boy, and go along with it. The jocks and the kids with rich parents- often one and the same- were the only ones who really got to have any fun in high school anymore, it seemed. They lived high school the way everyone supposedly could, but in Cal's observations, you had to be in The Club- the athletes, the rich kids.

And if you weren't in The Club? You had no chance. You wasted your time even trying.

Asking Rachel to the Prom had been Cal's idea, and one Andre hadn't taken that well. He and Cal had been friends since the seventh grade, when they'd met during PE class in the fall of that year. By now, they were the best kind of friends, as close as brothers. So Andre, without understanding why Cal had wanted to go to the Prom at all, especially with Rachel Lurie, had accepted that the blond clearly wanted to do it.

He was a little more annoyed than normal, given how vital it was that they spend what little time remained before Zero Day getting ready, both with their gear and mentally. But Cal had agreed that he'd be over as soon as he was done at the Prom, and with that he and Andre had made plans for later tonight. That had satisfied Andre, who would be spending the hours when Prom would be going on working at the pizza restaurant he'd been with for the last year. Andre insisted, when they'd talked about it, that he wasn't going to the Prom because he didn't want to go, not because he didn't have anyone he could've gone with. Cal didn't press him on it, but he wondered.

Andre was always angry. Whether about homework, his job, jocks, rich kids, or life in general, Andre was always pissed off about something. He was always angry, and it often showed, making him someone a lot of kids steered clear of. Andre seemed like he not only didn't mind, but he actually seemed to enjoy it, if Cal pointed it out to him.

"After what I went through in middle school," Andre had said once, "I don't care what I have to do. I'm not going through that ever again."

The upside was that Andre Kriegman was left alone a lot more these days than in middle school, but to him- and to Cal, to be fair- it was still not enough. Neither one of them had ever really been treated fairly.

But the down side, Cal felt, was that Andre let his anger get in the way of things sometimes. Obsessed with making sure nobody ever fucked with him again, Andre focused on that. He didn't seem to realise that if you wanted to get laid, for example, the unbridled fury Andre kept simmering just below the surface wasn't going to help. In fact, it would do much the opposite.

Calvin Gabriel, on the other hand, was no less angry, no less furious at the bullshit he'd been putting up with for what seemed like, by now, his entire life. But he kept it deep inside him, where nobody could see it- unless he wanted them to. Andre, he knew everything. He knew how badly Cal wanted to get a move on, kick things up a notch and show everyone what happened if you let dim, shallow hypocrites run things long enough. He and Cal had spent over a year getting ready for May 1st, 2001, and it was going to be the best day of their lives. It would also be their last.

But that was the price, the cost of living one day with the power to decide who lived and who died. The power to live in complete freedom, where no one could stop you and no one could get in your way, ever again. Cal wanted that more than anything else in the world. He, and Andre, had together decided that Zero Day was what they wanted to do with their lives.

So why hadn't he just gone home today and waited for Andre to get off work? They could've had that much more time to hang out, and time with Andre was never wasted- especially this close to the big day. It was so exciting; Cal got a rush just thinking about it.

Maybe it was the fact that Cal had actually gone into this, somehow still hoping the Prom would be what everybody had said it would be. That after all the lies he'd been told about so many other things in his life, Cal would finally get to find one of them was true.

It was a laughable excuse, if that was it.

Beyond that, Cal knew he was just kidding himself. That wasn't why he was here. Really, it was probably just because he'd felt like it. But that didn't explain him asking Rachel, her specifically, and that he did know the reason for.

So far, Rachel had seemed to be having a great time tonight, trying to get Cal to come out of the withdrawn, shy way he acted at so many social events. She really thought Cal had come to the Prom because he actually cared about the dressing up, the damn punch bowl and the lousy dancing.

Maybe that was what _she _had come here for. But Calvin's reasoning was a lot less noble.

**XX**

"Come _on_, Cal!" Rachel exclaimed, tugging at his arm. He started; Cal had hoped it would take longer for her to find him, trying to hide behind the idiot kids hanging out near the punch bowls. It wasn't Rachel, but rather her idiot friends he was trying to avoid. Like Greg, who'd spent half the ride here in that rented limousine shouting nonsense, like it was funny. Cal's fucking head ached after listening to that shit, for what felt like a goddamn hour. He didn't care if it had actually been ten minutes; on Zero Day, Greg had just earned himself a death sentence.

Assuming Andre didn't take him out first.

"Come on!" Rachel said again, this time giving Cal a poke in the ribs. "I know you didn't come here to lean against the wall all night," she teased, and Cal smiled back. "No," he said, "I guess not."

"All right, then what did you want to do?" Rachel asked, and Cal surprised her- and himself- by holding hands with her as they walked back across the gym, going around the dance floor. "Well-" Cal said uncertainly, wondering what in the hell his brain had just gotten the rest of him into. "Well, what would you say if I offered to walk you home?"

Rachel turned to face him, frowning a little. "But… I already told Greg we were taking the limo back."

"I guess we could do that, if you wanted," Cal said. "But you know, it's just so loud in here, Rachel. I can't hear myself think. I'd like if we could actually hear each other talk for once tonight."

"I can hear you now, Cal," Rachel said, smiling, but she seemed to be thinking about it.

"Did you see the sky today?" Cal asked. "It's so clear out tonight; we could see every star in the sky. The way to your house goes through that back field anyway. Believe me, you won't be sorry." He was surprised at himself, being this bold. He was talking about stars, going someplace quiet… Jesus Christ, did this shit actually _work_? Why not just go a step further and ask Rachel if she wanted to head out back and fuck?

"Well…" Rachel said, "We'll need to let everybody else know."

"Um, could you?" Cal asked, becoming shy and hesitant once more. Or rather, just appearing to. "I felt like I got along with your friends pretty good, and- I don't want to hurt their feelings and all."

"That's sweet, Cal," Rachel said, looking at him in a way Cal liked a lot. She seemed really impressed by that- like she really believed it.

"I'll just, uh, lean against the wall some more," Cal said with a small smile and a laugh, gesturing back to the punch bowl. "Just come and find me when you wanna start walking home."

"Prom's not over for another hour, Cal," Rachel pointed out.

"Then we'll just sneak out early," Cal replied, lowering his voice and smiling mischievously.

"Okay," Rachel said, laughing. "But I get one more dance."

"As my date wishes," Cal said with an elegant bow.

**XX**

Twenty minutes later, after not one but two final dances for the night, Cal and Rachel made their way off to the side of the gym, unnoticed as they headed for one of the exit doors. Holding hands with his date, Cal turned to her with a mischievous smile on his face, holding a finger to his lips.

**XX**

"I had a lot of fun tonight," Rachel said as they walked along in the dark, heading for the back of the school across a mostly-empty underclassmen parking lot, the smaller one located between a practice soccer field and the tennis court.

"Me, too," Cal said with a smile. He gave Rachel's hand a light squeeze; she smiled and squeezed back. "So, you wanna take a walk in the woods?" Cal asked her.

"Back there?" Rachel asked, glancing and pointing at the woods lining the back of the school property. A gravel path used by school maintenance personnel led out to a tree-lined secondary field, used in PE classes when school teams were using the main fields. And by boys hoping to get lucky on prom night.

"Yeah," Cal said. "Don't worry. I know the way. I walk this way all the time when I'm going home from school." A lie. He'd walked this path just a couple of times, most recently this afternoon.

But a small one, when you considered what else Calvin Gabriel was withholding from the people around him.

"Then I've got nothing to worry about, do I?" Rachel said, looking at him.

Cal paused, looking at Rachel. "No," he said into the silence, a dark night disturbed only by cicadas singing in the trees. "No, you don't."

"You're a good guy, Cal," Rachel said. "A gentleman, walking me home."

"You're not so bad yourself," Cal said with a grin, squeezing her hand. Again, Rachel squeezed back.

Walking across the grass beside the soccer field, the two teens looked up at the clear sky, lit only by the moon overhead- less and less by the parking lot and school lights behind them. Once they got out on the gravel path and behind the soccer field, the trees overhead obscured the moon, making it very dark. Rachel moved closer to Cal, who put an arm around her. She, in turn, moved even closer to the blond's side.

"Hey," Cal said as they started walking uphill to the back field. "Come on. Lemme show you something."

"It's the back _field_, Cal," Rachel said with a laugh in her voice. "What's new about it?"

"This is just like a field out in the country where- I sometimes go to look at the stars. You know, think and stuff."

"So, you wanna go stargazing?"

"If you wanna," Cal said gently. Rachel shrugged, her smooth, pale shoulders very pretty in the dim light, complimented nicely by her sky blue dress. Cal, sweating under his multi-layer tuxedo, wished guys were allowed to wear something that light. His heart was racing now, in spite of how calm he appeared. He was totally making a move here, or about to. Or he already had.

"All right," Rachel said. "Sure."

"Okay," Cal smiled. He moved behind Rachel, gently putting his hands over her eyes. She stayed in place, but said, questioningly, "Cal?"

"Just trust me," Cal said softly.

Gently walking her up the last of the pathway and onto the grassy back field, Cal insisted Rachel keep her eyes closed, checking for peeking and chiding Rachel the one time she tried it.

"Come on, Cal," Rachel laughed. "I can't see a thing!"

"We're almost there," Cal said, and a moment later stepped back and turned her around. "Now."

Rachel opened her eyes, looking around. They were in the middle of the field now, alone under the stars.

"Cal," Rachel said quietly, "It's beautiful out here." She looked up. "It's so clear! You can see every star!"

"Come on," Cal said, lying down and patting some grass beside him. "It's more fun, looking at them from here."

Rachel did so, and Cal took a few minutes pointing out some stars and constellations he knew.

"Star," Cal said. "Star. Star. The Big Dipper. _The Big Dipper_!" he whispered excitedly, making Rachel laugh.

They lay there in silence a few moments, gazing up at the stars. It was warm out, even this long after dark. Cal sighed. "You ever realise how small we all are compared to this?" Cal asked. "Look at all those stars. There's planets near so many of 'em. And we're on one. We think we're all _so_ important. Look at this, though. Are we?"

"That's deep, Cal," Rachel said, starting to laugh.

"Hey, what?" Cal said, sitting up and looking at her. Rachel started to giggle, putting a hand over her mouth. "What?"

"Nothing," Rachel laughed, looking at him and looking away. "You're so cute when you're upset."

Cute?

"Hey."

Cal reached out and set a hand on Rachel's chin, turning her face towards his. Rachel looked at him, surprised, even nervous.

"Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?" Cal said. And before he could stop himself, he leaned in, just a little bit farther, and kissed her. Right on the lips.

**XX**

It all happened fast after that. _Really_ fast.

Cal moved back after a moment, and for just a few seconds the two of them stared at each other. Then Rachel reached out, took Cal's pale face in both hands, pulling him forward again. This time she kissed him. Then it all started happening in a hurry.

The teens started making out, kissing again and again as they embraced. Cal opened his mouth as she did, their tongues meeting and dancing around each other. He held Rachel close to him, and for a second broke away to take off his black jacket. God-_damn_ was he sweating under that!

Rachel seemed to take this as a cue to help; she started unbuttoning the white dress shirt, and then unbuckled Cal's belt and slid off his black pants. "I always thought you were hot," Rachel said as they kissed. "Always. I've had a crush on you since 8th grade, in gym class."

"Me, too," Cal said, not able to think of much else for a reply. Then, as Rachel lay on her back while Cal kissed her shoulders, neck and lips, Cal paused. "I've never done this before," he lied quietly.

"I know," Rachel almost whispered. "Me neither."

**XX**

Cal lay naked on the grass, his arms around Rachel's bare back and shoulders as he gazed up at the sky. Their clothes were strewn around nearby, completely forgotten.

"That was amazing," Rachel said, sighing. She shifted a little, her soft, shapely breasts pressing delightfully against Cal as she lay her head on his chest. Rachel laughed. "Are you _sure_ you've never done that before?"

"Positive", Cal lied. There'd been one other time, with a high school senior years ago, and even that hadn't been anything like this.

"Well, you were great," Rachel assured him. "I- it felt amazing," she said, sounding both awed and reflective. "They never tell you how good it feels."

"If they told us the truth in Phys Ed," Cal mused, "Even more kids would sneak out of the Prom."

Rachel laughed, snuggling up against Cal. "You're hot," she said.

"Well, it's pretty warm out," Cal replied smartly.

"No," Rachel laughed again, "I mean _you_," she said. "I'd rather see you naked than Brad Huff, Cal. I mean it."

Surprised, and moved, Cal sat up a little, lifted Rachel's chin so they looked at each other. Then he kissed her on the lips. They stayed that way for a long time.

"Thank you," Cal said, and he meant it.

"You're welcome," Rachel said quietly. After a few more moments, she lay her head back on his chest. Absently, Cal started stroking her hair with one hand. Cal thought about what had just happened, reliving every moment of it. He knew he would be, again and again, for what little remained of his life.

**XX**

He'd had no idea what he was doing the first time, or this time. But things had worked out. Cal just did what he figured you were supposed to do, going off everything he'd ever heard that sounded useful. Once their clothes lay in a heap nearby, Cal and Rachel had rolled over on the grass, making out and enjoying every second of what was happening. Then Cal had rolled them over so he was on top, he'd gotten a nervous, hesitant Rachel to relax a little, and once she did he'd spread her legs and pushed himself in.

It had felt… _amazing_.

Cal had pushed in and out, pistoning his hips forward and back, his penis hard iron inside her while she clutched his back, begging him not to stop. And Cal hadn't. He couldn't have if he'd tried. He just kept going, kept thrusting in and out, until the growing feeling of ecstasy, building down in his balls and leading into his member, just exploded. Pushing his hips forward, pressing himself all the way into her, Cal gasped and grunted, unable to speak, as a wave of ecstasy washed over him; Rachel gripped his back hard and cried out.

They'd stayed like that for what seemed like forever. Finally, once they'd come down, Cal (reluctantly) pulled himself out, laid out on the grass, and Rachel laid down with him. They'd been here ever since.

Cal hadn't even bothered to use a condom. He hadn't thought to bring one. Honestly, though- he didn't care. It had been too much fun this way.

**XX**

"I'm glad I was your first," Cal said quietly. "You know that?"

Rachel sighed contentedly. "Me, too."

Kissing her gently on the neck, Cal was momentarily surprised when Rachel sat up and looked at him. "You know something?" she asked.

"What's that?" Cal replied, gently kissing her shoulder now.

"Cal," she laughed, protesting weakly. "Cal, stop it- I'm trying to tell you something!"

"Later," the blond said, "Right now I'm busy."

Rachel sighed, but she was more amused than frustrated. "Boys."

"I've got a lot of teenage hormones," Cal said pleadingly, "I just don't know any better."

His prom-date, the girl he'd had a crush on since forever, shifted herself a little, and Cal felt her thigh- smooth and slender, like the rest of her- brush against his groin.

They looked at each other.

"Only if you want to," Cal said quietly.

"I want to," Rachel replied, taking his face in her hands kissing him. Gripping Cal's shoulders, she rolled onto her back, and for a moment they lay there, belly-to-belly under the moonlight.

"Ready?" Cal asked, and she nodded.

This time was even better than the first. A _lot_ better. When they were done, sweaty and hot from a second session, they lay there beside each other, staring up at the stars.

Feeling the rush of adrenaline, a dull, extremely pleasant ache in his balls, Cal found himself feeling better than he had in a long, long time.

I've got reason to, Cal thought calmly, an arm around a tired, sweaty Rachel. I just fucked a girl- twice- and Zero Day's almost here.

It was funny… here, with his life almost over, things were finally starting to work out. Pride in himself, a best friend, a girl who just might love him… or at least liked him enough to let him go all the way with her. Either way, things were working out very well. Cal was getting, and about to get, everything he'd ever wanted.

_It's too bad I can't stay_, Cal thought with surprising sadness, as the full impact of it hit him. Rachel- after this- she'd miss him. He knew that.

But Cal had made up his mind a long time ago. He couldn't swerve, couldn't change course.

Not even for Rachel.

**XX**

Cal and Rachel finally did walk home, holding hands the whole time. It was a lot later than they'd thought, well after dark. Neither of them cared. They enjoyed the walk, taking their time and talking about whatever came to mind.

It had taken forever for them to finally agree to get their clothes back on; neither of them really wanted to.

Then, once they got to Rachel's neighborhood and walked down the street to her house, Cal stood on the porch with her, kissing her goodbye.

"Promise- promise me we'll stay in touch, Cal?" Rachel asked him, her eyes pleading. "I-I really want to still see you, after we graduate. So, promise me that we will. Please?"

Inwardly, Cal sighed. He'd been starting to feel guilty on the way back here, starting to remember his intentions for taking Rachel to the Prom at all had been… less than noble. It had been great for a while, getting what he wanted. But it had started to dawn on Cal that the way he saw it was probably very different from the way Rachel saw it. For him, it had been just a last-minute excuse to try and get laid. For her… it was a lot more than that.

And in just a few days, on May 1st, 2001… she would find out who he really was. What he and Andre had been planning the whole time, going back more than a year. What would she think then? What would happen to her?

_Nothing I can do_, Cal thought sadly, but with resolve. He could tell no one what was coming, nor could he change his mind. That possibility had been sealed off long ago.

But he still couldn't make himself look her in the eye, and tell her they'd see each other again after high school. Not when he'd be dead before they even graduated...

_I have to say something_, Cal realised, and so he did. He lied.

"Sure," Cal said, his boyish, good-looking face showing a warm, charming smile. "I promise, Rachel." He kissed her on the lips again, adding quietly, "I had a great time tonight. How about you?"

She looked at him. "Cal," she said softly, "I- this was the best night of my life." Then she took his face in both hands, pulled Cal towards her, and kissed him.

Then, after hugging him tightly, Rachel knocked on her door and was let inside. Cal barely noticed himself politely giving his 'official' good-night to Rachel, and saying a polite, thoroughly meaningless hello-goodbye to Rachel's parents.

Cal's mind was a typhoon of emotions, each fighting for dominance and control, and he walked off the front porch of Rachel's house and off down the street, headed for Andre's, in something of a daze.

As he reached the street sign-post at the end of Rachel's neighborhood, Cal suddenly stopped and turned back, gazing at Rachel's house with his hands jammed in the tuxedo's pockets.

"You fucking bastard," Cal said quietly, feeling an intense rush of hatred, of disgust, for that adept liar and con-artist named Cal Gabriel. He wanted Zero Day, he wanted revenge, absolutely had to have that day of god-like power and freedom… but he'd never included a night like this in his plans, or what it would mean for somebody like Rachel. He'd… he'd never even known he'd meant that much to her. Now it was far too late.

"You piece of shit," Cal whispered to himself, shaking his head in disgust. Finally he turned around and kept walking.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

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><p>It was after 10pm when Cal finally reached the Kriegman house. Walking all this way had taken some time, given how far apart everything managed to be in the suburbs. He'd told Andre he'd be over after Prom ended, and here he was, more than thirty minutes late. With what they had to talk about tonight, with Zero Day so close, Andre was more on edge about things happening on schedule than he usually was. He'd either let Cal's tardiness go, overlooking it because of how important their meeting was, or he'd be fucking pissed.<p>

_Time to find out_, the blond thought with a mental shrug, heading up Andre's front walk, onto the porch and ringing the doorbell.

The sound of footsteps on the hardwood floor inside the Kriegman house, moving about as fast as you could without running.

A pause. Right now, Cal knew, Andre would be checking the peep-hole, identifying the visitor. He always did, especially anytime he was expecting Cal over to talk about Zero Day preparations. Today was one of the last times that would happen- one of the last times, Cal realised with some surprise, he and Andre would be doing anything at all.

The front door swung inward, and from the inside of the house Andre Kriegman stared incredulously under a mess of short, jet-black hair. He was more startled than angry, but he was definitely annoyed.

"Dude!" he blurted out, already stepping back to let Cal in, "What the _fuck_? You said you'd probably be leaving the Prom _early_. No later than when it ended at nine. Yet here you are at fucking 10:15! What _is_ it with you and Rachel- Jesus _Christ_, did you guys _fuck_ or something?"

Cal turned a little pink, smiling in an odd mix of amusement and embarrassment. "Um, well…"

Andre stared, his eyes even wider than before. Too surprised to be angry, his face now just registered disbelief.

"Oh, my God. You fucked her. You fucked Rachel."

Cal just laughed awkwardly, almost a giggle. Seeing Andre taken so aback, given how serious and in control he was normally, was actually kind of funny.

The dark-haired teen shut the front door finally, walking off into the kitchen and shaking his head.

"Jesus Christ. I knew it," he said.

**XX**

Sitting out on the shingled roof just outside of Andre's bedroom window- and, after a short climb, conveniently out of sight of that window, too- Andre and Cal opened a pack of cigarettes Andre had snatched up the other day. Some idiot at school dropped them in the parking lot, and Andre found them on his way out to his car.

"Lucky for me I had these," Andre said, exhaling after a long, deep drag. He blew a stream of smoke into the nighttime summer air. "I was so fuckin' nervous, man, I wanted to go up here and just chain smoke the whole thing. I just smoked one out back, but I smoked it down to the fuckin' filter." He took another deep drag. "Fuck it. I'm gonna smoke _every one_ of these down to the filter. Every _fuckin'_ one."

Cal silently listened, smoking his own cigarette while, to some extent, lost in his own thoughts. But he was listening. He always listened to Andre, as he did whenever Cal talked. That's how it was for them.

"So how was it?" Andre asked finally.

"How was what?" Cal asked, even though he knew.

"Don't give me that," Andre said, a little impatiently. "I just wanna know, that's all. So tell me, all right?"

Cal hesitated, unsure of how best to say it. He had a few ideas as to why Andre would ask, but knew it would be better not to point some of them out. Andre, though completely willing to discuss his shortcomings, unfinished goals, and failures with Cal if the blond really wanted to talk about them, preferred not to bring a lot of them up. He was sick to death of thinking about the things he'd wanted to do but never did, and now knew he'd never get to.

Most likely, since Cal had gotten to do something tonight that Andre had never quite managed, Andre was just curious as to how it had been for Cal- what it was like. He never would've even asked anyone else, for fear of having to inevitably admit a certain fact about himself to the other person. But Cal was different, and Andre could admit that to him. Because when they talked to each other, it was halfway like talking to yourself. There were moments…

Sometimes Cal wondered if there were such things as half-souls. Two people, friends as close as brothers, forging a friendship so strong it was like they were not just good friends, but two halves of one whole person. Even if that weren't so, it didn't matter. The fact he even wondered about such things told Cal one fact he'd never doubted: very few people ever became so close as friends.

"It's gonna sound dumb," Cal said in warning, but Andre just waved impatiently, inhaling again as he gripped the cigarette between two fingers.

"All right," Cal shrugged. He lay back on the roof, the shingles stiff but not too uncomfortable against his back, through his white dress shirt. He'd ditched the jacket after coming inside. He paused, smoking a few moments.

"It was fucking amazing," Cal said. "Best feeling I ever had."

"What else?" Andre asked, still sounding curious.

"When I got in her, she felt tight, but it was, like, snug. Warm, wet- I wanted to come right then. I almost _did_, man. I swear to God."

"Premature detonation," Andre remarked, and they both laughed. Andre could come up with that shit at any moment- and it was never as funning coming from anyone else.

"And, I just did what I thought you were supposed to do. Just moved my hips back and forth, kept that up till I, uh, detonated." He laughed, and so did Andre. "Right then- that made the rest of it feel like nothing. I never thought _anything_ could feel that good."

Cal fell silent, and Andre flicked his cigarette- nearly down to nothing- over the side of the roof, lighting another. "So that's it, huh?"

"Yeah," Cal said. "Rachel was great."

"Ah, fuck it," Andre laughed. "I'd have done it. Too bad we can't stand each other, huh? Me and her?"

"Yeah," Cal nodded. He shrugged. "It's not a big deal, man."

"Nah," Andre agreed. He exhaled, and a moment later said, "Thanks. For telling me. I just wondered, was all."

"You're welcome, Andre," Cal said, so sincerely the dark-haired teen looked at him, skeptical yet amused.

"Are you fuckin' with me?"

"You _want_ to?" Cal grinned. "Right here, on the roof-"

"No!" Andre laughed, realizing what Cal meant. "_No_, dude! Goddamnit- why is it so hard to answer a fuckin' _question_?"

"Yes, dude, I _am_ fuckin' with you," Cal answered, having had his fun, and for a few moments they laughed together. It was moments like this when Cal knew he would never turn on Andre, or trade what they had together, as friends, for anything. Not for the world.

**XX**

"So what'd you want to talk about?" Cal asked, after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"We're probably gonna run into somebody we know," Andre said. "Someone we like, I mean. Guys we're cool with."

"So if we see 'em, don't shoot 'em," Cal said with a shrug.

"Sure," Andre agreed.

"Including Rachel?" Cal asked, a little nervous, but the thought had occurred to him. He didn't want Rachel getting shot if Andre came across her.

Andre tensed up, and for a few moments he didn't say anything. Then he sighed, flicking a second cigarette over the side of the roof. "Including Rachel," he agreed. "I'm just saying, we need to be ready for that. As a possibility. And we can't let it stop us, man. We can_not_ let that stop us."

"So if they get in our way, we'll…" Cal began.

"…Fucking kill them," Andre finished, a cold smile on his face. "Including Rachel?"

Cal sighed, but he nodded. "Including Rachel." Firmly, he added, "But _only_ if she gets in our way. And even then, you let _me_ deal with her. Okay?"

"Sure," Andre agreed. "You fucked her, so she's yours." He grinned, holding a fist out. Shaking his head in good-natured reproof, Cal made a fist of his own and bumped it against Andre's.

"I'm fuckin' proud of you, man," Andre said, still grinning a Cal. "You fuckin' _got some_, man. I knew if _any_one was gonna get that poon, it would be Cal Gabriel."

"My boyish good looks," Cal said, grinning back. "That's what she likes," and Andre laughed. "Yeah, lucky you."

"Lucky me," Cal agreed, staring happily up at the stars. His balls sure agreed, given the dull, pleasurable throb Cal felt.

"There was some other shit, too," Andre said after a minute or two. "I was thinking of changing up what we bring with us. Chris has that M1 Garand, a Lee-Enfield- he's got some shit with some range to it. If we want to take a shot at the cops, pistol-caliber guns and shotguns won't be too good at it."

"You _really_ wanna take on the _cops_?" Cal asked, genuinely curious, and a little surprised.

"I might," Andre said with a slight shrug. "I just want to keep my options open."

"Well, I'm taking that M1 Carbine he's got when we get over there-"

"And start stealing my cousin's shit," Andre added, and they both laughed. "Yeah, well," Cal went on, "When we do that, I'm taking that M1 Carbine."

"It's yours," Andre agreed.

"So the longer M1, the Garand- you take that one. We'll both be rocking M1's on Zero Day."

"Just wish Chris had a fucking Thompson," Andre lamented. ".45 caliber, sticks of 30 bullets, and if he had one that was full-auto…" Andre's expression and voice took on a dreamy look. "I'd be _hosing_ those motherfuckers down, dude."

"Shooting motherfuckers like it's cool," Cal said, a smirk on his face, and Andre just laughed. "Yeah, we're gonna be doing that for sure." He paused. "Not like I'll do all that bad with the Garand, though. .30-06 is a long rifle round. That's some powerful shit."

"I wonder what it does," Cal mused, "A big round like that. When you shoot somebody right in the head?"

"Tell you what," Andre said. "On Zero Day, I'll shoot at least one kid right in the head, just for you."

"You're my best friend, Andre," Cal said, and the dark-haired teenager looked back at him. "Yeah. I know. You're my best friend, too."

Tired of sitting up, they stretched out on their backs, staring up at the stars. For a while neither one of them said anything.

"I don't know about you, man," Andre said, "But I'm looking forward to this. Like, I know it's gonna be hard. Nerve-wracking as hell, dangerous- and fun. But we've spent all this time getting ready, and-" he halted. "What I mean is, I'm ready for this. I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Me neither," Cal said quietly, his hands folded behind his head.

Andre laughed. "You know something?"

"What's up?" Cal asked in reply.

"I was just thinking about something, those stupid moto posters they had up in all the classrooms in elementary school," Andre said. "All that, 'Think it and you can do it,' 'You can achieve anything you can set your mind to' bullshit. I got to middle school, and high school, and it turned out I believed that shit more than the people that told it to me. Well, you know what, man? This is it. _This_ is what I've set my mind to, _this_ is what I want to do with my life."

**XX**

Andre's voice, deeper than Cal's, took on passion and strength as Andre talked. He could get himself worked up, showing such confidence and belief in what he was doing, Cal felt nothing but admiration for him. They were a perfect match, the best of friends, despite being different in the way they talked, the way they hid the hate building within them for years, the anger they had at the shitty hand they'd been dealt from the start.

But all that was about to change. Lately, these last few months, Andre and Cal had relaxed. Outwardly, they'd calmed down, and their friends, teachers, parents and classmates probably thought it was looking down the road that was causing this. That Andre and Cal had learned to laugh at their problems by growing up, finding better ways of dealing with them.

And they had- though it was not the one anyone else likely imagined. Andre, always so explosive with his anger, so easily provoked into showing it and revealing hints of the even deeper, more insidious hate that had burned within him for years, had finally managed to master his temper, at least long enough to get to Zero Day.

Cal, on the other hand, the one everyone thought was sweet and charming, who had and could never hurt anyone or anything- he had never forgiven anyone, no more than Andre. He'd just been better at hiding it all this time. Cal was angry. Furious, even. He was angry at the hand he'd been dealt, at the rampant moral hypocrisy he'd seen among students, teachers and parents alike from his first day of middle school. He was angry because he couldn't seem to go a day without being spat on or mocked. By now Cal had wised up- he'd learned the truth. His dreams- beyond Zero Day, anyway- would never happen. And life would never get better.

Cal wondered sometimes if his fury, because it was so well-hidden and contained, wasn't even greater than Andre's. When he thought ahead, tried to see himself on Zero Day, Cal saw someone who granted no mercy, had no pity. A young man who killed everyone he saw, because everyone was the enemy. _Everyone_.

It was a hard lesson, and middle school had been brutal and merciless in teaching it to Andre and Cal. The blond remembered clearly how he and Andre had gotten through those dark three years in Hell alone. No one had helped. No one had come and saved them.

They'd had to learn first to look out for themselves, and then, once they became friends, they'd learned to look out for each other. They'd learned to ignore the 'authorities', to never tell anyone anything. Andre and Cal had learned to solve their own problems.

No, Cal knew he and Andre had not 'grown up', as anyone stupid enough to use the term that way would call it. They hadn't 'matured' and decided to get on with their lives and go on to continue their indoctrination at some John Q. Smith University somewhere.

They had made the better choice, the _only_ choice.

They had decided to give up their lives, embrace the secret joy of intense, barely-controlled hatred, and their ability to outwardly calm down and relax was granted by the knowledge that in just a few more days, they were going to shock everyone with their revenge.

**XX**

"Dude."

Andre jabbed Cal in the ribs, just the way he'd done in PE class in 7th grade, back when they first met. Andre could be awkward socially, and when he tried being friendly, he often came off as childish and immature. That was him being playful, and Cal had come to know the act didn't come easily to Andre. The dark-haired boy took very poorly to rejection, so Cal had learned to put up with Andre's eccentricities, even come to like them. It was good having a best friend.

Startled out of his deep, introspective thinking, Cal jumped and looked at Andre, acting even more surprised than he was. "What?" he asked.

"You kind of zoned out there," Andre said, an amused look on his face. "Didn't hear a thing I said, did you?"

"I was just thinking," Cal said, settling back down again. "About Zero Day."

"Good thing to be thinking about," Andre said. "Anything in particular?"

"Hate," Cal said, leaving it at that. Andre looked like he understood, though, as he just about always did.

"I know about hate," Andre said quietly. "It's all that's kept me going all this time."

"Yeah," Cal said. "That's what I mean. It's amazing how it feels- like it's really, I don't know, like it's flowing through you."

"You realise the Dark Side of the Force is basically just a euphemism for hatred?" Andre said suddenly. "All that hate, man. In me, in you- how much hate does it take to wanna walk into your school and just blow fucking everybody away?"

"A lot," Cal said.

"Well, you know something, man?" Andre asked. "I'm _full_ of hate, and I love it. It feels… _amazing_. The thing is, my parents, if they ever see me get pissed about something, they seem to- I don't know, basically think they can 'save' me, keep me from 'falling to the Dark Side." Andre paused. "Dude, I think they missed their chance a long time ago. _Everybody_ did."

Andre's voice trembled with anger, with unbridled rage. Cal could sense that, not so far beneath the surface, Andre Kriegman was more than ready to kill. He was barely holding it in, just long enough to make it to Zero Day.

But then, that was all that was needed. So that was all that mattered.

"I've wanted to do this since 7th grade," Cal said. "I just didn't… I didn't realize it was an option until we started talking about it. I just didn't _realize_ you could fight back this way, back then. But I think about it, and I know I've wanted this since middle school. I just _know_."

"Me, too," Andre said, nodding. "I've been waiting for Zero Day for a _long_ time."

"I, um, I know what you mean," Cal said. "About this being what you want to do with your life. I just want two things, Andre. Zero Day, and us being friends. Nothing else."

Andre looked at him, his dark eyes thoughtful and emotional. Finally, he managed to say something, though he had to clear his throat first.

"Me, too."


End file.
